


Absolution and Abyss

by starry19



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker needs two hugs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, ROTS Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry19/pseuds/starry19
Summary: "And now...Padme would die. He had sealed her fate. But saved the Republic."
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this, thinking it would be a one-shot. Five thousand words in, I realized it wasn't. *shrugs*

_“He’s too dangerous to be left alive!”_

The abyss was staring at him, waves of darkness beckoning. He could talk Master Windu out of it, he knew. Could appeal to his sense of devotion to the Jedi code, of what was right and wrong. 

Obi-Wan’s face swam in his mind. As did his wife’s. 

It was time to choose. Light or dark. He knew what he should do. Finding the strength for it was another matter entirely. 

For just a heartbeat, he felt two nudges through the Force. Obi-Wan.

And Ahsoka. 

They could feel his torment. And though they had no idea of the reason for it, they both automatically reached to support him. 

He grasped onto the color of their signatures - Obi-Wan a deep, calming blue, Ahsoka a vibrant orange. And he let them pull him back from the edge.

No more thinking. 

One sharp nod at Master Windu. One fluid movement from the Jedi master.

It was done. 

He felt a bitter mix of relief and regret. Shame and guilt. Failure and triumph. 

He buried it all under a cloak of calmness, most of it borrowed from Obi-Wan’s depthless serenity that the older man was currently projecting his way. 

The numbness was better for now. He needed to function. Things had to be done. Later…later he knew, he would pay for this time of reprieve. 

He sucked in a breath, the first in what seemed ages. “What do you need me to do, Master?” 

Windu gave him a long, measuring look. Anakin had no idea what was in his face, no idea what Windu could sense. “Alert the rest of the Council,” he said, coming to a decision. “Whoever is still alive. We have much to do, and must move quickly.” 

And so, he did. 

The first few hours were a blur. It was a safe bet to assume Palpatine’s inner circle were all well aware of their master’s…proclivities. They were not interested in coming quietly. 

In between smashing down doors and arresting Sith apprentices, he sent a very quick message to his wife. “ _I’m alright,”_ he said, “ _I can’t talk about what happened, there’s not time, but just know I’m fine.”_

He transmitted the recording because he was too much of a coward to see her face just yet. 

Hours later, he stood in front of the rest of the available Council. He was exhausted, but he knew there more, much more he needed to go through. The Council, each one looking visibly battered,questioned him for a long time, and for the first time in years, he answered in complete honesty. 

So now…they knew. About the Chancellor and his plans. About how close he had come to falling over the edge. And about Padme and the child she carried. 

There were a few questions he felt they had deliberately not asked. He had been grateful for it, but at the same moment, he wanted just to have it all out in the open.

He bowed when he was dismissed, then turned blindly into the Coruscant night. He did not remember the trip, did not remember the decision he’d make to go, but he was unsurprised to find himself at his wife’s door. Had he taken a speeder here? He had no idea. 

The apartment was dark, and he knew she was gone. She would be at the Senate, of course, doing whatever was needed to ensure the survival of the Republic. He absently wondered who would be chancellor now. 

His money would be on Bail Organa. The thought seemed like it came from a very long way away. 

He dropped onto the sofa, head in his hands. He was so, _so_ tired. But he knew rest was a long way off this night. He should meditate, release his emotions into the Force. He was still a Jedi, after all, at least for now. 

The Council would not make a decision about his fate tonight. There was far too much to be done. Continuity of government needed to be established and protected. And, in the end, he had made the right decision.

It had been a near miss. 

A very, very near miss.

And now…Padme would die. 

He had sealed her fate. 

But saved the Republic. 

He wanted to die. Wondered if he could make some sort of bargain with the Force. His life for hers. Straight trade - no conditions. 

It didn’t matter - he wouldn’t survive her loss anyway. 

In an instant, he was running down the hall, stomach heaving.  After, he lay on the floor, head pressed against the cool tile. 

Through a wave of agony, he heard the knock on the door. Ignored it. This was Padme’s apartment officially anyway. He did not get visitors here. 

But then someone called his name, and he realized he was in too much pain to focus on what the Force was trying to tell him. Who was behind the door. 

On legs that trembled and with hands that shook violently, he let Obi-Wan inside. Of course he knew. It was suddenly blindingly obvious that _of course_ Obi Wan knew about Padme. Perhaps not the entire story, but enough that know they were…involved…and had been for years.

His old master…friend…brother…stood before him, his usual serenity a bit tattered. In another life, Anakin would be amused by that. Obi-Wan put a hand on his arm. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

Absently, he shook his head. No. Not now, not ever again. 

He had sentenced the woman he loved to die. He had almost given into the dark side, almost given himself to the Sith. Almost ruined everything he had spent his life fighting for. 

“You’ve talked to the Council?” Anakin asked, voice sounding hoarse and strange.

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. But I wanted to hear everything directly from you.” 

They sat, Anakin cradling his head in his hands again. And, since there was _no point_ in hiding anything, and no way he could feel worse now than he did, he spoke. For a very long time. He left nothing out, even things that he had not shared with the Council. 

And Obi-Wan took everything in with measured calmness. Asked a few pertinent questions. And then was silent, turning it all over. 

“You did the right thing,” he finally said. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

He met the other man’s eyes. 

“It feels like I’ve murdered my wife.” 

There - the first time he had acknowledged _out loud_ to anyone else that Padme was his wife. It should have been more momentous, but Obi-Wan merely blinked once. “Anakin, you don’t know that’s what’s going to happen.” 

“I do, though. I explained that.” He felt his temper flare. So did his master.

“Have you told Padme about it?” 

From the side door, there was movement. “Has he told me about what?” He hadn't heard her shuttle arrive, or even sensed her footsteps. Such a thing had never happened before, but perhaps he could be forgiven for his lack of awareness. 

Padme stepped out of the shadows, clearly aware that something was very wrong. She looked tired, almost as tired as he felt. In her condition, she shouldn’t push herself so hard. He stood, held out a hand to her. She looked askance at him, but put her fingers in his nonetheless. 

“Come sit,” he said. She did, but flicked her eyes nervously at Obi-Wan, who offered her a grim smile. “It’s okay,” he told her, lacing their hands together. “He knows.” 

Padme looked between the two of them with increasing levels of alarm. “What happened? I’ve heard rumors, awful things. About the Chancellor and how he died. And the deaths of several Jedi? The Senate is a mess, no one knows anything...” 

He did not - _not -_ want to explain this again. Not to this woman. But he needed to. Needed to tell her that he had doomed her. Was going to have to see the look on her face when she realized he couldn’t save her, that he was too much of a coward to do what needed to be done. 

She said nothing while he spoke, her fingers still against his. When he was recounting how close, how tempted he had been tonight, he choked up. And when he was bitterly apologizing for his weakness, she threw her arms around him, and he realized he was crying. 

He buried his face in her neck, hands gripping her fiercely. The soft swell of her stomach pressed against him, and he silently apologized to his child for not being strong enough to save its mother. 

The pressure on him increased, and after a confused second, he understood that Obi-Wan had his arms around him as well.

He shattered. 

After all he had done and all he failed to do, these two people, the people he loved the most in the galaxy, were trying to comfort _him_. The pull of the darkness disappeared, almost entirely. 

And he wept. Wept like the frightened, ashamed man he was. Frightened of losing the woman he loved more than his own life. Ashamed of what he had nearly done to save her. 

He was drowning in pain and fear and hurt and loathing and agony and guilt. And these two were determined to pull him out of the water. 

When the storm passed, the water receded, he found himself on the floor, his head in Padme’s lap. Obi Wan knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

“What do I do?” he asked his master. His mentor.

Somehow, Obi-Wan managed a tight smile. “Nothing, as hard as that may seem. The Council is going to have their hands full for a while, but they will wish to hear from you soon, I imagine. Until then, stay here with your wife.” 

“How long have you known?” Padme asked quietly, one of her hands weaving into his hair. 

Obi-Wan’s smile was more genuine now. “Always, it seems like. I am not blind, though I have tried to be for your sake. Both of your sakes,” he added. “But Anakin could never quite manage to hide that he was desperately in love with you.” 

Slowly, feeling as though he weighed thousands of pounds, he turned his head. “Why did you never mention it?” 

“Because she made you happy,” Obi-Wan said simply. “And you deserve some happiness in your life.” 

There was no good response to that. 

Obi-Wan stood. “Try to rest, Anakin.” 

He rose to his feet, still unsteady, and walked his master to the door. “Will you contact Ahsoka for me?” he asked, voice nearly gone. “I can feel her worry.” In fact, she had been pushing on their bond for hours. But he _could not_ bring himself to say all of these things again. Selfishly, he did not want to see the disappointment in his former padawan’s face. 

The other man nodded. “Of course.” 

“Will you tell her she helped saved me tonight?”

Another nod. 

He put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “And so did you.” 

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan sighed. “I have seen many truly terrible things in my life. Things that will stay with me until I die. But I have never been more afraid than I was tonight. I could feel how close you were to…” 

“You saved me,” he repeated. “You and Ahsoka, and the light you sent me.” 

Obi-Wan hugged him then, brusquely, and he reflected with grim humor that they hadn’t physically touched this much in the past several years combined. 

“I’ll get ahold of Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said, hand on the doorknob. 

“Tell her to come home, if she can.” 

One more nod, and then he was gone. 

Anakin stared at the closed door for a full minute, tracking Obi-Wan by the Force as he made his way through the building. 

Then he turned, walking slowly down the hall to where Padme waited. 

He realized he was afraid to face her. 

But she pulled him into her arms once more, and he was even more afraid that there was now a finite number of times he would ever do this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her hair. “Sorry I couldn’t save you.” 

Her arms tightened. “I don’t need to be saved, you foolish man.” 

Oh, but she did. And he couldn’t do it. 

The choking sensation was back. 

Padme rose on her tiptoes, pressing her forehead to his. He sucked in a deep breath. Then another. 

“Make love to me,” she whispered. 

There was no question in her voice. It was a command only. 

And, as always, he was powerless to deny her. 

He needed this, needed the feel of her around him, to be as closely connected as two people could be. To have her so vibrant and alive beneath him, limbs entwined with his. 

She _knew_ he needed this, but he rather thought she needed it, too. 

The confirmation that he was still with her, that her worst fears had not come to pass. At least not yet. 

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had not been the only ones afraid for him tonight. 

When he lay next to her, his head on her breasts, hand resting protectively on her stomach, his heart trembled again at the thought of losing her. 

But she kissed the top of his head, shifting a little, and he closed his eyes, abruptly exhausted. 

His dreams were haunted, but each time he woke, she was there with soft caresses and soothing words, and each time, he would ease himself back down, face in her hair or against her neck. 

In the inky darkness just before dawn, Padme rolled to her side, and he followed. She took his hand, placed it against her stomach, and he felt the insistent nudges of little feet on his palm. Despite the current wreckage of the world, he smiled. 

His child. His eternity. His legacy. 

_I will keep you safe,_ he thought. _Even if I couldn’t promise the same thing to your mother_. 

A wave of grief washed over him. 

How? How could he possibly survive without her? And yet, he would have to. He knew what the galaxy was like - cold, unfeeling, harsh. How could he leave his child to the mercy of it? He knew what it was like without parents. What he wouldn’t give for his mother, even now. He could not do that to his child. Would not leave them. 

“I love you so much,” he breathed, addressing both his wife and the baby she sheltered. 

Padme turned again, facing him now, her fingers skimming down his face. He wondered what she saw there. She snuggled closer. “I love you,” she whispered, lips brushing his. “Ani,” she went on, very softly, “it will all be alright.” 

And how he wanted to believe her. 

She fell asleep against him, and he carefully pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. He took his responsibilities towards her seriously - she was under his protection, and if there was no threat to fight against, it was his job to protect her from the cold. 

He studied her sleeping face, the blackness in his mind reminding him that he would not be able to do this many more times. She did not look relaxed. Even as she slept, he could see the hollows in her cheeks, the shadows beneath her eyes. 

Intuitively, he knew it was because of him. She had been worried, knowing that something was coming. He wondered for the thousandth time if she didn’t have a hint of Force sensitivity somewhere in her blood. 

He was supposed to be keeping her safe. But he was hurting her. 

He frowned, shifting so that their foreheads were touching. 

He closed his eyes, but did not sleep again. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not...entirely thrilled with my writing on this chapter. But since staring at the page, demanding it change into something I liked better didn't work, here we are. I'd love to hear what you thought about it!

The morning seemed to take an eternity to arrive. 

It was raining, which seemed appropriate. Padme’s data pad made the first noise of the day, telling her that there was an urgent message waiting. Yeah, he would bet there was. 

Grumbling just a little, she stretched across the bed to grab the device, snuggling back into his arms as she pressed a button. 

A hologram of Master Windu appeared, announcing that there would be an emergency meeting of the Senate in two hours time. 

She sighed. “It’s going to be a long day.” 

There didn’t really seem to be a way around that, so he kissed her hair in lieu of a reply. 

She forced herself out of bed ten standard minutes later, taking the sheet with her. The sound of running water followed. 

Padme ordered them breakfast, and though he had no appetite, he forced down a few bites. 

“I need to go,” she told him, eyes flicking toward her closet, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he nearly smiled. Duty and fashion, in that order. That was his wife. “I need to see what’s going on, what I can do to help.” 

He nodded. “I’ll escort you to the Chamber whenever you’re ready,” he said, though he doubted there would be much for her to do. If he knew Bail Organa - and he did - there was no way the man was going to put a very pregnant woman on the front lines of anything, no matter how much she begged. 

He watched her get ready, like he had done countless times before. One notable difference this time - from the depth of her jewelry box, Padme removed a small velvet case. He knew what was in it - he was the one that had bought it, after all, a romantic whim a veritable lifetime ago. Or maybe it just felt like a lifetime. 

It was her wedding ring. 

He did smile this time. 

This would be the first time she wore it in public, around people they knew. 

Nestled in the black velvet, next to hers, right where it belonged, was his own ring. 

She returned his smile, then sighed as he came to stand behind her, arms loosely winding around her waist. 

“So are we putting an announcement on the holonet or what?” he teased, taking the glittering, filigreed band out of its case and carefully slipping it onto her finger. He could not deny the visceral pleasure of seeing an outward symbol that she was his. Yes, he had always known that - but now everyone else would, too. 

“I’m not sure we need to go that far,” she laughed, reaching for his ring. Broader than hers, and not a hint of sparkle. For a while, she had worn them both on a chain around her neck, long enough that she could tuck them into whatever she was wearing. But the clasp broke one day, and she had nearly lost them on the floor of her office. They had gone into her jewelry box after that, safe from both mechanical failures and prying eyes. 

She pushed the ring onto his finger, and he studied the image of the two of them in her dressing mirror. He liked what he saw. 

Apparently, so did she. 

“We almost look married,” she commented, a grin playing across her features. 

“Almost,” he agreed, his jaw against her temple. 

It dawned on him that he hadn’t had nearly enough of these small, quiet moments with her. The ordinary things that made up a lifetime. They were so frequently apart that it sometimes felt like they were two strangers that occasionally met for dinner. 

If he was forced out of the Jedi order, this _could_ be his life. For whatever was left of hers. 

His eyes fluttered shut in denial. 

Correctly interpreting his expression, Padme turned and brushed her lips across his. “It will be alright.” 

She’d said those words probably a hundred times since last night. He wondered who she was trying to convince. Him? Herself? 

He couldn’t answer, just offered her a wan smile. 

He had just delivered his wife safely to her office when his comm link beeped. It was Obi-Wan, informing him that the Council would like to see him at his earliest convenience. In Jedi speak, that meant immediately. 

So he turned the speeder into the flowing Coruscant traffic, wondering if this would be the last time he entered the temple. 

As many difficulties as he had with the order now, and with its rules, he could not deny that it was possibly the single greatest driving influence in his life, other than his wife. 

For a boy from nowhere, born into slavery and destined for a lifetime of it, to rise above, and to belong to the single greatest force for good in the galaxy…

He would always owe the Jedi, owe Qui-Gon for this, even if they had taken him in begrudgingly at first. 

_You would all be dead if it wasn’t for me_ , he thought, suddenly bitter. _If I hadn’t told you who the Sith lord was, you would still all be playing into his hands._ _Is that enough for me to finally gain your trust?_

He doubted it, especially when they all knew, all sensed, how close he had come to falling. And everything that had led to that moment. 

He gripped the controls of the speeder tightly. An unexpected pain drifted across his hand, reminding him that he still had his wedding ring on. 

It didn’t matter. For one, he was wearing gloves. For another, he’d had just about enough of the darkness, and wasn’t about to bury his marriage in it anymore. 

The Council was waiting for him, looking as though they had nothing better to do than sit around and pass judgment on his sins. In truth, he knew that was unfair of him. It was likely the beings in this room had slept less than he had. 

He bowed automatically. 

“Young Skywalker,” Master Windu began. “You look slightly better than when you left us last night.” 

“Thank you,” he replied. He wasn’t at all certain he felt better. Possibly calmer, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think it would last. 

“We are not here today to make a decision about your future,” Windu went on, and he knew his eyes widened. “For now, we would like you to answer some more questions for us.” 

“Of course,” he responded. 

From the other side of the room, Obi-Wan flashed him a small smile. His former master looked as though he he’d spent a rough night in a back alley somewhere, very unlike Obi-Wan. 

He couldn’t tell if the momentary return of his sense of humor was a good or bad thing. 

For the next two hours he spoke, delving deep into what he knew and what he suspected. The Council asked thoughtful questions, some that he had never considered. He was forced to admit that while he occasionally felt disdain for the high ranking Jedis, there was no doubt that they were very wise in some ways. 

“Unable to see the future clearly, we were,” Yoda said, almost as though he was admitting to a terrible weakness. “And the present, as well.” 

“How many members of the Senate do we think aligned themselves with Palpatine?” he asked. 

For a second, Master Windu looked very tired. “That’s difficult to say, I’m afraid. Many were with him. But how many of them were on his side because they went freely? And how many were with him because Sidious unknowingly manipulated them? Fear is a powerful motivator.” 

Force, he knew that better than anyone. Look at what he had almost done when he was afraid that Padme was going to - 

A thought occurred to him, and he was stunned that it had taken him so long to come up with it. It hit him with more force than lightning, more force than…well…the Force. 

He nearly choked on his sudden, desperate hope. 

“Is it possible?” he asked, fumbling for words. The Council exchanged glances with each other, and he realized he had not been paying attention to what they’d been saying for some time. “The dream I had…about Padme dying in childbirth…could Sidious have been behind that?” 

Master Yoda’s face was unreadable. “Possible, it is. Probable, more likely. Great is the power of the dark side, and great was Sidious’s skill in it.” 

His knees buckled without warning. 

Now that it was there…he knew. The Force told him, and he had never been more certain of anything. It was a dream, not a vision, and not even _his_ dream. A nightmare given to him. A falsehood that he had nearly _turned to the kriffing dark side over_. 

Padme might not die. It was not certain. He might not have to let her go. There might be years left with her, decades. _She didn’t have to die because he loved her_. 

He took a deep, gasping breath. Another. There was something wrong with his vision. In another second he realized he was near tears. Again. He had to stop this. 

A hand clasped his shoulder, and he knew without looking that it was Obi Wan. 

Always there when he was needed the most. He was going to be godfather to the baby, no question. There was no one else he would entrust the safety of this child to, if the worst should happen. 

His mind was not working right, not at all. 

He needed his wife. Suddenly, and with an all consuming intensity. Needed to touch her, wrap her in his arms. Needed her forgiveness, he realized. 

Heartbeats away. He had been _heartbeats_ _away_ from making the worst mistake that anyone had made, _ever_ , in the history of the entire damned galaxy. 

It was enough to make him want to throw himself off a bridge. That was, if he didn’t have Padme to worry about. 

Obi-Wan was speaking again, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make out a word. All he knew was that he found himself propelled to his feet, Obi-Wan still grasping his arm. He bowed without looking, then practically ran out of the chamber.

Padme was at home again, work in the Senate being very limited for a bit. 

She smiled when he pushed open the door, but then looked vaguely alarmed when she saw his face. 

“Ani?” she asked, rising heavily to her feet. “What happened?” 

He didn’t speak, just wrapped his arms around her as tight as he dared. 

“Anakin?” she whispered, fingers skating up the nape of his neck. “Did the Council make a decision?” 

He shook his head, forced his throat to work. “Not yet.”

“Then what?” she prompted. 

He sucked in a breath. “The dream I had. The vision.” How he could say that so calmly was beyond him. He had so nearly wrecked the galaxy over it. 

“About me? Dying?” 

The words coming from her lips still felt like a blow, and he had to remind himself that she was literally safe in his arms at this moment. 

“The Council thinks…and I agree…I _know_ …that Palpatine was behind it. Was the reason it existed. He gave it to me, trying to make me turn.” His voice shook. 

Padme took a step back to see his face, her hands in his still. “But you didn’t,” she said, like she was reminding him.

“But I _almost_ did, Padme. You have _no_ idea how close I was to…” he trailed off, fighting with the guilt and the sheer, consuming rage that accompanied it. “And it would have all been for a lie. Because someone was manipulating me, and I wasn’t smart enough to figure that out.” 

He could be - and was - furious at Palpatine. But it was possible he was angrier at himself. He could feel it in the tremble of his fingertips, the uptick in his pulse, the blackness gathering at the edges of his vision. 

She read his emotions again, reached up to kiss the edge of his jaw. “Give yourself some credit,” she whispered, “even if I know you don’t want to. You _did_ make the right decision, my love. You _were_ strong enough, good enough, even when you thought the outcome would end my life. Of course you were tempted!” she went on. “He meant for you to be! Anakin…” She held his eyes. “There are millions of others that would not make the choice you did. I know you hold yourself to higher standards,” she said, “and I love that about you as much as it frustrates me. But this…Anakin, please don’t hate yourself over this.” 

He sighed, consciously forcing his rage back beneath the surface. He should be focusing on releasing it into the Force, but frankly, he didn’t want to. He did not want to forget. He did not deserve to forget. 

But his wife was touching him, trying to call him back, and, like always, her presence pacified him. 

He kissed her, lightly. 

She swatted at him. “Don’t try to distract me.” 

Involuntarily, his lips quirked. “I wasn’t,” he promised. “But am I?” 

She hid her own smile in his chest, stepping into his embrace again. “Forgive yourself,” she said, voice muffled. “If not for your own sake, then for mine. And the baby’s.” 

He let his lips play in her hair. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. Forgiving himself was not one of the things he was good at, would _ever_ be good at. 

“Then can we focus on the fact that your dream was just that - a dream?” 

And there it was, the rush of hope. He tried to temper it. What if, what if, what _if_? What if he was wrong? She could still die…

“I hope so,” he settled on saying. 

They stood together for a long time, her fingers linked loosely at the small of his back, his hands on her waist. Or rather, where her waist used to be. They should move to the sofa, he thought absently, in case she was tired of being on her feet…

“You’re very bad at letting go of things,” she said casually, fingers now sneaking beneath the edges of his tunic. 

He was startled into laughter. She wasn’t wrong. 

She tugged impatiently on his belt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a smile in his voice still. 

She sounded vaguely annoyed. “Trying to take your clothes off,” she told him. “Do you think it’s possible you could help me with that?” 

He knew she was trying to distract him, but he was also very willing to be distracted. “Of course, my lady.” 

— 

For the next three full days, he felt as though his emotions were in a constant shift. One moment, he would be almost exultant with relief over Padme. The next, his mind would go red with rage. And the next, he would want to sink into the floor with guilt. Or, conversely, he would be quietly thrilled about becoming a father. 

He bounced around the apartment aimlessly, unable to sit and focus for long. 

Somewhere far down his list was the thought that the Jedi Council was going to make a decision soon. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. To be allowed to stay? To be forced to leave?

A part of him was gutted by the idea of leaving. He was a Jedi. It was what he had been trained to do. He was _good_ at it. He loved the thrill of combat, loved the high that could only come with winning battles. Loved how it felt to know that he was part of something that had lived for a thousand generations. 

But a part of him wasn’t absolutely opposed to a new life. He could work. For the first time in his entire life, he could have some money of his own - _any_ money. Padme might laugh, since she made and had more than enough for the both of them, but there was something deeply appealing about it. 

The only time he managed to settle for any length of time was at night, Padme curled up next to him. It was strange - this was the longest they had spent together since before they were married. No Senate, no war, no Jedi. Just the two of them, figuring out what marriage for regular people looked like. 

It was…nice, he decided. Knowing he would get to sleep beside his wife. Knowing that he had time to spend with her. They could and did talk for hours, sometimes about deeply important things and sometimes about utterly frivolous subjects. 

In truth, he fell in love with her all over. They were close, closer than they had ever been, and he reveled in it. 

On the fourth day, he accompanied her to the medical center, reminding himself that they weren’t hiding things anymore. The baby was fine, Padme was fine. Absolutely no cause for alarm. 

But like Padme had noted, he had trouble letting go of things. Like the fear that somehow, something would go wrong. He fought it, for her and for himself, but it still lurked in the back of his mind. 

They made love nightly, another thing that hadn’t happened since those bright days on Naboo. It wasn’t like they’d ever spent that many nights in a row together. That alone did wonders for his stress levels.

They were good at this, he realized. Good at being together. It had never been a question of how much he loved her, ever, or that they wanted to be together. But in the past, they seemed to butt heads often about her job or his or the direction the war was headed in. Maybe now that the galaxy was headed towards peace, some of the tension would go away. 

He hoped, anyway.

And what a thing that was - the ability to hope about their future. 

On day five, she had a long meeting with Chancellor Organa. 

On day six, he was summoned back to the Temple. 

He knew his destiny was about to be decided. But he also knew that whatever happened, the center of his universe was still Padme and their child. It would _always_ be them. 

So with a quieter heart than he would have ever imagined, he kissed Padme gently, and headed for whatever the future held. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as a piece for myself only, so I'm happy to hear that some of you have enjoyed it as well. This is the first time I've written Anakin, and while I don't have his voice down as much as I'd like (because, of course, Anakin has to be *difficult*), I'm looking forward to maybe trying it out again in the future.
> 
> As you may have gathered, this is The End of the story. Thank you so much for reading!

He had given this moment a great deal of thought over the past week. What would he say to the Council? How would he defend his actions? Did he even _want_ to do that?

What he wanted, he realized, was all of it. He wanted to be a Jedi. But he wanted to be Padme’s husband. He wanted to be a father to his child. 

If he had to choose, he would choose his family. Every time. 

The Council was waiting in the chamber, looking as blank and impassive as ever. Except Obi-Wan, of course, who shot him the ghost of a smile. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Good sign? Bad sign? 

“Young Skywalker,” Master Windu began, “we are here to discuss your future with this order. This council has spent many hours contemplating your situation and your actions.”

It was impossible to read anything in Windu’s words. The man had far too many years of being opaque under his belt. 

“Before we get to a decision,” Windu went on, “do you have anything you would like to say to us? A statement?” 

He nodded, swallowing sharply. He’d practiced this in the mirror, but the words suddenly felt stuffy and flat. He mentally threw his notes over his shoulder and decided to do what he did best - speak from the heart. 

“Masters,” he said, looking around at the beings in this room that had played such a large role in his life. “I know my relationship with Senator Amidala goes against the Jedi code. My feelings for her have always been forbidden. I’ve always known that, too. My former master certainly warned me, many times, so please don’t think this was a failure on Obi-Wan’s part.” He nodded once at the man in question, who looked…slightly amused. Anakin was almost sure he was the only one who could tell. 

“But,” he continued, “just because my feelings were forbidden didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And, quite frankly, I had a difficult time making myself believe that what I felt was anything but right.” He changed tenses. “I _have_ a difficult time believing that the relationship I have with my wife is anything but right.” 

He had started to pick up steam. “Just over a week ago, you discovered my marriage. But I’ve stood in this room many times in the previous years, listening to you praise my actions in the Clone Wars. The Anakin Skywalker you sent on all those missions, the one that defended worlds and put his life on the line _repeatedly_ for the Republic…I’m still him. I’ve been married for three years.” That confession brought a little movement from his audience. “Everything I’ve done in this war, I’ve done as her husband.” 

He paused, both for effect and to gather her thoughts. “I know you’re going to argue that I can’t be an effective Jedi while maintaining an attachment. But I can argue that I can. That I have. Never once have I shirked my duties because of her. Never once have I _not_ done what I needed to do because of her.” 

The words came faster now. “I also know you’re going to argue that it was my attachment that almost made me fall to the dark side. There’s no way around that - it did. But only _almost_. I did not fall, though I was tempted. However…” This next part was tricky. “If not for my _attachment_ , would you have known Palpatine was the Sith lord? If he had not tried to use me, manipulate me, when would you have become aware of it? He tried to make me his tool, knowing I was not like other Jedi, but in the end, all it did was bring his downfall.” 

Several uncomfortable looks passed between members of the Council. Except, again, for Obi-Wan, who still had a smile lurking behind his beard. 

“The Force brought me to Padme. There has never been any doubt of it in my mind. And while I may be in violation of the Jedi code, I am not in violation of the will of the Force. And I would never dare think my own beliefs are more important than what the Force demands.” He was almost daring them to contradict him. Obedience had never been his strong suit anyway. 

“That’s all,” he finished, rather lamely, his sudden flurry of words dying abruptly. 

“Thank you, Knight Skywalker,” Windu said after a brief pause. 

“A most passionate defense,” Master Mundi said, and Anakin swore there was an undercurrent of humor. 

Then again, passion was also outlawed by the Jedi code, so perhaps that was a foreboding choice of words…

Master Yoda spoke for the first time. “Valid points you make, young Skywalker. Indeed, a very similar argument from Master Obi-Wan, we heard as well.” Well, that explained Obi-Wan’s expressions. “Yet, wonder do we, if all correct those points are.”

_Was_ he reaching? Probably. He had done the same thing in justifying his attraction to Padme, years ago. His own interpretation of the code.

“Still,” Yoda went on, “your record of service, doubt, we cannot. And, if wed to the Senator all this time you were, under consideration that must be taken.” 

The grandmaster exchanged brief looks with a few other members. 

Anakin realized he was holding his breath. 

“Remain a Jedi you shall.” 

A swift jolt of relief. 

“On probation, however, you are.”

Alright, that was fair enough. He _had_ admitted to knowingly violating their code for years. 

“Confined to Coruscant you shall be, indefinitely, until such a time, revisit the matter, the Council does.” 

A brief flash of anger. He wasn’t going to be allowed out in the field? There was still a war going on! It wasn’t like all the Separatists were going to just lay down their arms and call it a day. Some, no doubt, would carry on just the same. Who would lead his brigade? They were _his_ troopers - 

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, no doubt picking up on his mood, and, with effort, Anakin nodded. 

“Yes, masters. Thank you.” He managed to keep his voice neutral. 

He bowed out of the room. 

Ten minutes later, Obi-Wan found him contemplating the skyline of the city. It looked just the same as it always had. One different decision - if he had made _one_ different decision…

“This is actually the best outcome you could get, you know,” Obi-Wan said casually. 

“Oh?” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in both amusement and affection. “Yes. They’re doing you a favor, and you can’t see it.” 

Anakin arched an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Do you want to be with Padme when she gives birth, or somewhere in the Outer Rim? I rather thought you’d like to be with your child for the first few weeks of its life.” 

It was abruptly clear, and Anakin felt his shoulders relax. Obi-Wan had fought for this, fought for him and his family. And it would be…wonderful…to have so much extended time with his wife and the baby that would be on its way nearly any time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely. “Thank you.” 

The air between them cleared. 

“There’s going to be some changes to the Jedi order,” Obi-Wan commented. “For the good, I hope. You’ve become a fairly good example of how a few of the rules have become outdated. Don’t let that go to your head,” he tacked on. 

Anakin grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

There was a pause, but it was a comfortable one. Then - 

“So what does a Jedi on probation do?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Meditation. Lots and lots of meditation.” 

“Great,” he said. “Just great.” 

—-

As it turned out, it was nowhere near as bad as he thought it was going to be. Also - there was nowhere near as much meditation as Obi-Wan had threatened. 

He was involved with many discussions about strategies in rebellious worlds, even if it killed him just a little to not be the one leading the charge. 

The process of re-organizing the Senate was an arduous one, and it seemed like every day there was a new Palpatine loyalist to interrogate. Then there were the deep dives into Palpatine’s files - and Anakin was horrified to find how far into the fabric of the Republic the darkness went. 

It would take years to sort it all out. 

He wasn’t bored, that much was certain. 

He _did_ make an effort to meditate, still not as often as he should, but he knew he needed to work on clearing his mind and releasing some of his blacker emotions. 

And then there were the mornings and evenings with his wife. He had spent years fantasizing about being in the open, in public, with her, and yet somehow, his fantasies had come nowhere close to the reality of it all. 

He could hold her hand as they walked, could settle an arm around her shoulders as they sat together. Could stop pretending that her safety wasn’t his first and most immovable concern. 

All of his possessions, an extremely meager collection, were now at the apartment. At home. On a whim, he bought a small painting of a landscape that vaguely reminded him of Naboo and hung it on the wall of the living room. He supposed it was an urge to actually put his mark on the place. 

Padme had just smiled when she noticed, and stretched up to kiss his cheek. 

He noticed that things started appearing in the closet - a small selection of tunics, belts that had no tactical usage or places from which one could hang smoke grenades.

His dreams settled down. It was possible for him to sleep easily most nights, Padme’s head on his chest, the scent of her hair in his nose.

It was Padme herself that struggled to rest, her burgeoning stomach making it difficult to relax and get comfortable. He felt sorry for her, hated that she was tired, buthad discovered he absolutely loved the curve of her belly. 

He spent long periods of time talking to his unborn child, his hand sliding over the soft skin of his wife’s middle, promising speeders and toys and absolute safety and security. And love. 

It came to him once that he was happy, without any sort of complication. 

Ahsoka, safely back in Coruscant after the long siege of Mandalore, noted the change in him one night. She had come over for dinner, amused at watching him in the kitchen. Padme, for all of her multitude of talents, was not a cook. To his surprise, he enjoyed it, and wasn’t half bad at creating dishes. 

“You look good,” she said, popping one of his appetizers in her mouth. “Really good. Better than I’ve seen you in a long, long time. This is _also_ really good,” she added, gesturing to the plate of food. 

“Thanks,” he said, thinking about her words. “I feel good, too.” 

She’d hugged him as she left later. He was a little surprised - they didn’t have that sort of relationship usually - but then she whispered in his ear. “I am so happy for you, Master.” 

Touched, unable to speak, he pressed his lips to her forehead, hoping she understood what he couldn’t say. 

Two days later, Obi-Wan returned to the planet, a little singed around the edges, but with good news of another surrender from the Separatists. The Republic would win, there was no doubt, but victory got easier with every world that came back under their control. 

While the other man delivered his report to the Council, Anakin took it upon himself to meditate. His worry for Padme was growing again, despite his new knowledge of Palpatine’s treachery. Things still could go wrong. She had looked pale and wan this morning when he’d left for the Temple. How would she handle labor when she was already so tired? 

He frowned, trying to release his emotions. 

An hour later, he knew it was a wasted effort. He should go back to the Council chambers, look over Obi-Wan’s report, make some suggestions. 

He was just rising to his feet when Obi-Wan himself, moving quickly, crossed the room towards him. 

“What happened?” he asked, automatically knowing that something was wrong. 

The other man did not hesitate. “I have a message from Padme. She’s in the hospital.” 

The words had barely gotten out when before he started sprinting. 

The panic rose with every step. This was it, wasn’t it? The day he lost her. The day he had to watch her die. He wasn’t ready. This could not be happening. Why had he not stayed home with her this morning? 

By the time he reached the medical center, he was frantic. 

But when he shoved the door to her room open, chest heaving, he stood stock still in surprise. Padme was sitting up in the narrow bed, hair curling down her back, looking radiant. Not on the edge of death, not in monstrous pain…but the opposite. Her happiness was practically tangible. 

“What’s happening?” he demanded, his heart unclenching just a fraction. 

She smiled, pulled back the edge of the blanket that was around her. “Come and say hello to your children,” she said quietly. 

The world froze as he stared at what she had revealed.

Two small bundles lay nestled beside her, snuggled in soft white blankets. 

_Two_. 

“Twins,” his wife told him, unnecessarily, as he could see. Could _see_ , but could hardly believe.  Frantically, he flicked his eyes over her again. 

“I’m just fine,” she told him, reading his thoughts. “I feel wonderful. The med droid pronounced me in perfect health.” 

A shudder went through him, and he stepped forward. He felt…afraid, he supposed. That this was all going to shatter. That he would wake, perhaps, and find he was once again wrapped in a nightmare. 

But she held out her hand to him, and he took it, her slender fingers wrapping around his. He kissed the top of her head, reverently, then peered down at…well, at his children. 

He hadn’t noticed earlier, but there was a narrow band of pink on one blanket, blue on the other. Slowly, cautiously, he sat on the edge of the bed, his heartbeat sounding abnormally loud in his ears.

Grinning, Padme scooped up a bundle and placed the baby in his arms. His daughter, he realized. He blinked, looking at her tiny, perfect features. A lump was forming rapidly in his throat. 

Padme was holding their son, watching him with the same fascination he felt. 

“Hello, little one,” he breathed, hesitantly touching the tip of her nose with one finger. Sound asleep, she ignored him, and he felt his lips curve up involuntarily. 

He looked at his son, his features slightly different than his daughters, but still unbelievably small and just - “They’re perfect,” he said, voice low and rasping. “So perfect.” 

His wife’s smile was luminous. “They are, aren’t they?” 

Struck by the moment, he leaned over and kissed her. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered once they’d broken apart. It was a question and a statement and a fervent hope, all at once. 

“I’m alright,” she echoed, and traced his face with her free hand. 

He took a long moment to breathe that in. Then, “Why didn’t you send for me sooner? Tell me you didn’t go through all of this on your own!” 

Her smile look on an amused cast. “I wasn’t alone,” she said. “Teckla was with me. And, let’s be honest, Ani, you wouldn’t have been a very calming presence here today.” 

He was about to protest, but then he thought about it, truly thought about it. As much as he believed the Force, that his dream really had been just a product of Palpatine, would he have been able to let go of it enough to be who she needed him to be? 

Possibly not. 

More likely, he would have gotten in the way with panic and fear and given her more to worry about, when she very much needed to concentrate on what she was doing. No, he had to admit that there was something to her decision, even if he had always imagined being here with her. 

“I’ll be better next time, Angel,” he promised, kissing her again.

She raised her eyebrows. “Next time?” 

His smile was so wide it hurt his face. Carefully, he swung one leg onto the bed, tucking Padme under his free arm. “Do they have names?” he asked, eyes drawn back to his daughter’s sweet face. 

“Unless you have objections, I thought Luke and Leia.” 

“Luke and Leia,” he whispered. Somehow, the names fit. “Leia and Luke.” He looked between them. 

Leia’s eyes were open, dark and serious, and he stared, transfixed. And then he felt it - a slight push, a nudge, through the Force. Leia could feel it. 

From beside him, Luke made a quiet noise, and he turned to see his son’s eyes were open as well. Slightly lighter than his sister’s, he decided. But the same push swept through him. 

They _both_ could feel it. 

He made the abrupt and final decision that they were not going to be trained as Jedi, at least not in the traditional way. The idea of sending his children off, of them being taught to not form attachments, that someone would tell _his children_ that their true families weren’t actually their family…no. 

But he was not going to deal with that just yet. 

With some maneuvering, Padme laid Luke along his other arm. Even together, they hardly weighed a thing. “You are so loved,” he told his children. The words seemed inadequate, but they were the best he could do under the circumstances. 

His wife peered over his shoulder at the two bundles. It was hard to believe that both of them had fit inside of her petite form. Force, no wonder she had been uncomfortable. 

He turned his head towards her, kissed her one more time. “You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “For what?”

His smile was a little tremulous, but that was alright. “For my children.” 

Her arms encircled his shoulders. “You’re very welcome, my love.” It was her turn to steal a kiss before both of them turned their focus back to the babies, who responded by promptly going back to sleep. 

And that was how Obi-Wan and Ahsoka found them, some thirty minutes later, as they cautiously peered around the partially open door. 

“Can we come in?” Ahsoka asked quietly, looking nervously between them.

He grinned. “Of course, Snips. Come meet your niece and nephew.” 

Her eyes widened, as did Obi-Wan’s. 

Anakin laughed. “Oh, did I fail to mention we had twins?” The words felt absolutely wild and absolutely perfect in his mouth. 

“Do you want to hold them?” Palme asked, holding Leia out to Ahsoka’s already waiting arms. 

Obi-Wan had to be pushed - _very_ slightly - to take Luke, but within a minute, Anakin was wondering if the older man would ever consent to giving him back. 

“He looks just like you,” he said. “Poor thing.” 

Meanwhile, Ahsoka was cooing delightedly at Leia, who had deigned to open one eye to survey her new admirer, before deciding her father’s former padawan was not worth her undivided attention and promptly sleeping again.

Smiling at the scene, Anakin curled an arm around Padme again. She leaned into his embrace, head tilted onto his shoulder as she watched their children make conquests of two Jedis. 

All of the people in this room would cheerfully give up their lives for these two, brand new beings. It was…a powerful, humbling thought. They were a family, all of them, a little unconventional, but bound together by love and loyalty.

The Skywalker-Amidala-Kenobi-Tano clan.

His _family_. 

He hid his face in Padme’s hair for just a moment. Everything that he had ever wanted was here, right here. 

So far, he had traveled _so far_ , across so many stars to be in this moment. Every battle, every heartbreak, every choice had led to this. 

The Force hummed around him, satisfied that the Chosen One was precisely where he was meant to end up. 

As for the Chosen One himself…

He was about to find out what life looked like with two newborns. Very different than what he was used to. Less dangerous, less pulse pounding, infinitely more precious. 

He couldn’t wait. 


End file.
